


You're So Fine (You Blow My Mind)

by DoctorSyntax



Category: Castle
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, Oral Sex, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-16
Updated: 2012-05-16
Packaged: 2017-11-05 12:19:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/406334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoctorSyntax/pseuds/DoctorSyntax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pointless (plotless) jock/cheerleader high school AU. (Ryan's the cheerleader.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're So Fine (You Blow My Mind)

"Dude, I know quarterbacks are supposed to do the hot cheerleaders, but something tells me this isn't usually how it goes," Kevin protests. Not that he's complaining. Really.

Javier just looks up at him from his position on his knees in the dirt, arching an eyebrow as he squeezes Kevin's dick. "Come on, you know this is better," he answers, and Kevin is in no position—pun absolutely intended—to argue with him. Fuck but Javier looks good on his knees, still in his uniform, pads and all, dirty and sweaty and exhausted, everything Kevin never knew he wanted until Javier cornered him in the locker room after their first game and got him so addicted to the feeling, to _this_ , that he doesn't know how to deal without it anymore.

"You're right," he concedes, fervently hoping that if he drops it Javier will get the fuck on with it before anyone finds them. 

"Shut up," is Javier's reply, before he makes a valiant effort to swallow Kevin's dick whole. Kevin yelps and too late remembers that he's supposed to be keeping quiet. They're just under the bleachers, it's not exactly a private space, and the idea that one of their coaches or teammates could walk right in on them and see Kevin standing there with his uniform pants undone and Javier's lips wrapped around his cock sends a tiny, forbidden thrill though his body even as he glances over his shoulder.

"And if I don't?" he presses, eyes scanning for movement, any kind of warning that people are coming, and it's really a testament to his paranoia that he can focus on anything but the wet heat of Javier's mouth, but Kevin has always been an exceptional multitasker.

Javier's only response is a light scraping of his teeth against Kevin's dick, and yeah, okay, it's time for him to shut up. It's not like they haven't had this conversation a couple times already. It's been an unofficial part of their post-game ritual all season long.

If they win, Kevin blows Javier as a reward for a job well done. If they lose, Javier's the one who drops to his knees just like he did that first game at the beginning of the season. And Kevin will never admit it for fear of getting his cheerleader card revoked, but he looks forward to losing as much as he does winning at this point. Not because he's on the receiving end of the blow job, although that's always nice (and easier on his knees) but because of the way Javier goes down on him after a losing game, all intense, quiet desperation as he tries to make up for his shortcomings on the field by focusing every iota of his attention on getting Kevin off.

Today, though, today had been the championship game and even though they'd lost Kevin had figured, hey, special circumstances and all that, tried to press Javi up against the backside of the equipment shed and give him an A for effort, but Javier had just shaken his head, hauled Kevin up with one arm and dragged him underneath the nearest section of bleachers.

And now Javier's got Kevin's dick crammed so far down his throat there's no way he isn't choking on it, hands gripping Kevin's hips tight enough to dig bruises against the bone. Kevin's all for enthusiasm, and there isn't a teenage boy alive who can't appreciate the merits of deep-throating no matter how sloppy the technique, but there's a dark edge to Javier's ministrations that he can't ignore no matter how much he wishes he could.

He also knows, of course, that he's too selfish to make Javier stop.

Javier pulls back and swirls his tongue over just the tip, just exactly the way Kevin likes it, and Kevin bites back a groan, struck by how well Javier knows him when you consider how few times he's actually done this—you don't make it to the state championship by losing all the time, you know?

The realization that he may never have this again hits him out of nowhere, and aches in a way he isn't prepared for. Suddenly it's not enough to curl his fingers around the warm metal support bar behind him and hang on for dear life: he needs to touch, and he needs to do it now. He reaches down to press his fingertips to Javier's jaw, feel the way Javi's cheeks hollow and curve around his dick, the way it shifts as he moves his head back and forth. Javier's eyelids flutter shut at the touch and he makes a small, pleased noise that's as heartbreaking as it is hot, because it's so easy to pretend like Javier wants this just as much as Kevin does, and that's _cruel_.

He must have made some kind of outward reaction to that because as he squeezes his eyes shut like that'll somehow be enough to stop himself from getting hurt, Javier makes another noise, a humming sound that resonates deep enough in his throat to make Kevin come without any kind of warning whatsoever.

Javier stays with him through it all, one hand loosely pumping Kevin's dick as he swallows, the other hand making the exact same motions on his own cock until he spills over his fingers and finally, _finally_ pulls his mouth off Kevin.

Kevin sags against the pole behind him while he does up his uniform pants, then offers Javier a hand up. There's a two-second pause that feels like forever as they just stare at each other, and then Javier yanks Kevin against him and kisses him thorough and dirty like he just can't help himself.

Kevin doesn't want to ever, ever let him go—he can list a million things he'd rather do and one of them is shave his entire body—but they do, at some point, need to breathe so he grudgingly allows it. He doesn't go far, though, until Javier squeezes his hand and inclines his head toward the locker rooms.

"Yeah," Kevin says softly, falling into step beside him and trying to figure out what the hell to say next. He's completely at a loss and sliding slowly toward a panic attack, so it's a good thing Javier does it for him, filling the silence with a quiet chuckle.

"Besides," he's commenting, "you're the prettiest cheerleader on the squad." It takes Kevin a second to figure out where that conversational non-sequiter came from, and Javier totally knows it, judging by the smirk on his face. 

Kevin smacks him upside the head, but there's no real intent behind it. "Only because they didn't let you be a cheerleader. You're way prettier than me."

"Man, shut up."

Kevin grins. "Oh, Javi, you're so fine, you're so fine you blow my mind—"

"Keep singing and that's all I'll be blowing from now on," Javier threatens, and Kevin just laughs, tension bleeding out as they jostle each other's shoulders and head off into the sunset together.

Or, rather, to the locker room. But hey, a guy can dream.


End file.
